


Occupation

by pantswarrior



Series: The Cultists' Cycle [20]
Category: Vagrant Story
Genre: Action/Adventure, Behind the Scenes, Family, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-11
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tasks assigned to Hardin during the taking of Duke Bardorba's manor were unsettling, especially the matter of the Duke's young son - but he had no choice but to follow through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occupation

**Author's Note:**

> A basic behind-the-scenes one-shot, focusing on what Hardin was doing while off-camera during the game's intro. Supporting characters are pulled from the previous fics in the series, of course.
> 
> This was actually written years ago, but for some reason, I don't believe I'd posted it anywhere at all before. Perhaps it's about time.

Things were definitely _not_ going as well as he'd expected.

He'd planned for every eventuality, or so he'd thought. Neither the king's men nor the VKP would strike openly with the duke's family held as hostages - they should have had the duke himself, had the man not taken an unexpected holiday to his other holdings - but apparently the cardinal was more bold. Or perhaps it was as Hardin had suspected for a very long time, and the cardinal truly had no loyalties outside his own zealous hatred of Müllenkamp.

Either way, their plans were quickly becoming unravelled at the seams. Hardin was not certain how many of their number remained alive besides those with him now in the small plaza just outside the Bardorba family chapel, for the Crimson Blades had already slaughtered many of the brethren at Guildenstern's instruction. Romeo Guildenstern had crossed their path before, and Hardin knew that he was more dangerous than many of the cardinal's followers, for he was cold and calculating rather than a hot-blooded fanatic, and would not move unless he had a certain plan of attack that left little up to chance. In that way, he was a bit like Hardin himself, though the iciness in Guildenstern's eyes on the occasions he'd shown himself before told Hardin of one major difference: Guildenstern cared nothing for those he sacrificed to his manuevers. If a man did not care about the casualties, he could be bolder with his gambles, and that was why Guildenstern was so successful. By contrast, the men Hardin commanded were his friends, his brothers. As Müllenkamp's military commander, he had tried to become colder, and most would say he had come a long way towards that goal, but in secret, he still agonized over every loss.

There was enough of the soldier he had once been, though, for him to know that he had no time to mourn those who had fallen, lest the rest of them fall as well. It was clear that the Blades' interference had cost them any chance they had of freeing their imprisoned brethren, but Hardin knew that was truly only a bargaining chip to hide Sydney's true objective. There was no telling whether the mage had found what he was looking for just yet, but if they did not move quickly, the Blades might come upon those who guarded the hostages, and then they would have nothing to lose by wiping out Müllenkamp, one by one.

"The cardinal seems to think we're bluffing," Hardin muttered, as those in the plaza approached, waiting to hear what their next move was to be. Hardening his heart, Hardin gave the order to those who awaited his word. "...Show them who they're dealing with! Torch the chambers and kill the hostages!" Helpless as the men and women were, Sydney had made his threats, and as his right-hand man, Hardin must follow through on them. Those held captive within the manor were the duke's sworn men and women, and there was no place for mercy in a mission such as this. Besides, it was better that they should die at the hands of those who had something to gain, rather than slaughtered by the knights, to whom they were nothing more than an obstacle standing in their way; Guildenstern's troops were not the only lives that the knight was prepared to sacrifice.

Those with Hardin nodded in grim agreement, and hurried off to spread the word. As for the commander himself, he turned to enter the chapel. A moment's scrying revealed that Sydney was still just where he had been the last time Hardin had sought him out with the Sight, and he did not look pleased. Hardin recognized this as a very, very bad sign.

* * *

Sydney was stalking furiously back and forth across the long room when Hardin arrived. Any normal man present would have been on the verge of cowering from his wrath, but Hardin knew better - when Sydney was pacing like this, as vicious as he appeared, he was more anxious than angry. For all his power, and all his prophecies, there were some things the gods did not reveal to him, and such things always proved frustrating.

"Hardin," the mage greeted him curtly, stopping in his tracks. Sydney's pacing betrayed his anxiety to Hardin, and he did not want to give off that impression. "How goes the siege?"

"From the way you're glaring, I suppose you already know that Guildenstern and his Blades have arrived," Hardin said. "That man always seems to show up just when we least expect it. I'm beginning to wonder if he's managed to outsmart even the gods."

"Enough," Sydney ordered him, narrowing his eyes. He knew perfectly well that Hardin was being cynical rather than blasphemous, but this was serious, and they had no time for idle ponderings. "Have we lost many?"

"At least six," Hardin replied. "Certainly more, but I have had little time to confirm the deaths, as the Blades are crawling over this manor like insects. I've dispatched the others to take care of the hostages, just as you declared at the beginning of our occupation."

"Not our two aces, I presume."

Hardin nodded, though it was not really a question. Sydney was certainly aware by now that Hardin would follow his instructions to the letter - and he also must have known that Hardin would have had great difficulty giving such an order in the first place. "They remain locked in the back. And you, Sydney? Have you found what you were looking for?"

The mage shook his blond head impatiently. "This is taking longer than I thought, but fear not. We must succeed in this, and so we shall."

"Is that a prophecy, Sydney?"

"No - simply a hard, cold fact."

The door to one of the adjacent chambers opened abruptly, and the two of them turned. Hardin's hand went to his sword before he recognized the men in the doorway as a few of the brethren who had been taking part in Sydney's search. "Well? Have you found it?" Sydney demanded.

The brethren flinched beneath what appeared to be their leader's rage. "It's no use," Kennett said helplessly. "There's nothing like that here - anywhere."

"Keep looking, damn you!" Sydney exclaimed.

Hardin frowned. Something was troubling Sydney, obviously; he'd never seen the mage curse at his own followers before - aside from himself. Granted this was an unpleasant situation they'd found themselves in, and Sydney had always hated their visits to Duke Bardorba's manor for some reason besides, but Sydney had seemed especially agitated ever since he'd uncovered the duke's intentions. Day by day, he'd become more tense, more ill-tempered, with none of the mischief or wry humor that was usually as much a part of him as the temper. It was almost as if... he was uncertain about something. Sydney was never uncertain about anything.

"I'm telling you, Sydney!" Kennett insisted. "The knights are nearly upon us!"

"Stop your whimpering!" Sydney ordered him. "You'd come this far only to leave empty-handed? Now, search!"

The man visibly paled at the mage's words; he was obviously already terrified, and his leader's wrath only deepened that fear. Wordlessly, he nodded, and he and his two companions left the sanctuary through the large double-doors that led to the hallway.

After they'd gone, Sydney resumed his pacing. Hardin followed a short distance behind as he walked the length of the room, wondering if it would be wise to ask what the trouble was. Surely it should not have taken so long to find this "key" the duke possessed, whatever it might be, especially when Sydney could read the hearts of all the duke's servants and family. Apparently even the duchess herself had never been told of the key, for Sydney had interrogated her privately earlier with no results.

"Curse the duke!" Sydney muttered angrily. "Where's he hidden it?"

A few steps behind, Hardin sighed. They'd lost so much already, and Sydney's tarrying here would certainly cost them more. And for what? For some mysterious item that only Sydney had ever heard of. "You sure the duke really has it?" he asked. "Does the damned thing even exist?"

Sydney stopped dead in his tracks at the question. Whirling about, he stepped up to Hardin and glared at him with such fury that the larger man flinched, taking a step back before he could stop himself. "You doubt me, Hardin?" the mage asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You doubt my power?"

It had been years since Hardin had first been the subject of one of those intense looks Sydney gave, strong enough nearly to knock a man to his knees without so much as a tap on the shoulder, and he found that despite their familiarity, those dark eyes still could make him fear for his life. "F-forgive me," he stammered, holding up a hand in surrender. "I did not intend..."

But as intimidated as he was, he was still Müllenkamp's commander and military tactician, and he owed Sydney his honest opinion, whether the mage liked it or not. "But Sydney," he told him, "any longer, and there will be no escape for us!"

Sydney stared at him a moment longer, then turned to continue pacing the length of the sanctuary without a word. Whatever this key was, apparently it was important enough that Sydney was willing to sacrifice all their lives in pursuit of it, he realized. Unlike most people, Hardin knew that beneath Sydney's cold exterior, he was not as heartless as he appeared; and so if Sydney thought that the key was that important, it truly was.

"...Fine then!" Sydney exclaimed in disgust, halting. "Bring the boy and come with me!"

Hardin hesitated, somewhat surprised that Sydney had given in. The mage's back, with its dark, unholy tattoo, was turned to him, but Sydney did not have to be looking with his eyes to see Hardin's nod before he left through one of the side doors into a narrow hallway.

* * *

If it were any other woman, he would have been unable to do this, Hardin thought as he trod quickly but cautiously down the halls that led to the priests' quarters in the back of the chapel. Sydney's men had secured this building well, but the Blades had been pressing ever closer since their arrival, and it may have been that they'd come within earshot of the small room where their two most precious commodities had been placed. If the woman had not remained silent as Hardin had told her, if she'd screamed for help despite his firm orders, they might have heard her and come to her rescue.

At least he did not have to worry about the boy. He'd expected the child to scream and cry and carry on at their predicament, but he had not said so much as a word; he'd merely looked up at Hardin with wide, worried eyes as his mother haughtily sneered and mocked at their captors. Young Joshua Bardorba was wiser than his mother, apparently.

Once Hardin had dispelled the sigil with which he had locked the door, he opened it to find the duchess kneeling with her head laid upon the dusty bed, weeping. He'd had to bind her wrists to the posts to keep her from pounding on the inside of the door, so she could not do much else. For his part, Joshua still did not look overly upset, but sat in a nearby chair, his short legs swinging idly. A vaguely concerned look was on his face as he turned to see their visitor, but he didn't look frightened at all. It was odd, but just as well, Hardin thought. A dark cultist and terrorist he may be, but he'd never wanted to be the type of person who would frighten small children.

His mother, by contrast, jerked her head up immediately, glaring at him despite her tear-streaked face. "Have you come to kill us at last, Hardin? I can't believe this - my husband gives your men coin and supplies, we accept you and your obscene excuse for a prophet beneath our roof time and time again, and this is how you thank him? By murdering his servants, his loved ones - even his own family?"

"Silence," Hardin snapped at her. The woman was already grating on his nerves again, after only five seconds, and he did not have many remaining to begin with after the unexpected arrival of the Crimson Blades. "I haven't come to kill you - as I told you before, you will not be harmed unless you make it necessary that I should harm you. Is that what you want?"

She fell silent, fixing him with a vicious stare, and he nodded in grim approval. "As I thought. I've no business with you, Lady Ellemir. However..."

She gasped in outrage as Hardin held out his hand to her son. "You are to come with me, young Lord Joshua."

His mother made an incoherent sound of rage. "How... how dare you?" she spat. "If you lay a hand on my little boy, John Hardin - so help me God, I will-"

Her threat trailed off in a surprised squeak as the boy bobbed his blond head solemnly, hopping down from the chair to hug his mother around the neck before he took their captor's hand. Even Hardin himself was surprised, but he did not let it show on his face. "That's a good lad. And as for you, duchess," he remarked, turning back to the outraged woman, "you are in no position to threaten me."

Even so, Hardin paused as he recognized the look on the woman's face. Having been so close to Sydney, a man who so often hid his insecurities behind a mask of fury, for such a long time, he could pick out the faint glimmer of fear amidst the fiery anger in Lady Ellemir's eyes. In spite of all the irritating, hurtful things she'd said in his presence over the last few years, in spite of all her arrogant piety and self-righteousness, she was a mother who loved her son, and she was terrified that she would never see her little boy again.

And she would not - Sydney had told Hardin that he intended to keep the boy with Müllenkamp, for the duke was not long for this world. "I will not let that bigoted woman raise such a politically important child," Sydney had said. Hardin was not sure they had the right to decide such a thing, but he'd seen enough of the duchess to agree that he did not want the heir to the Bardorba family's holdings to grow up being taught such hatred and intolerance. Freedom was already becoming more and more a rare commodity in Valendia, especially when it came to freedom of religion, and Lady Ellemir was a fierce adversary of such things, despite her husband's benevolence towards Müllenkamp. If the next duke were to hold such views as she, then the balance in Parliament would be irreparably shifted, and all those who did not follow the meaningless teachings of their dead "saint" would be helpless to defend themselves. It had to be done, for the good of the nation.

"Don't worry, Ellemir," he said at last. "Neither Sydney or I intend to hurt your son - and in fact, I promise to protect him with my life. No harm will come to him while I live - I swear it by the gods."

Turning away, he led the boy to the door, somewhat surprised and pleased by the feel of the small hand tucked within his larger one. His own brother had been some years older than Joshua when he had died, but Hardin had raised him since he was quite young. He'd forgotten the gentle clumsiness of a child's hand, the helplessness that they possessed and the innocent trust they offered so freely, even to a man who had done as many questionable things as he. Joshua was young enough that he did not know enough to be afraid of Hardin, to recognize the gravity of the situation.

His peaceful reverie was interrupted by the sudden mocking laugh of the duchess, harsh and haughty. "By _your_ gods? An oath sworn to false gods means nothing, Hardin - nothing! Or are you truly foolish enough to _believe_ in such idiotic notions? Soon you will learn - you, Sydney, all of your band of heretics, and witches, and... and fornicators! You'll go to the headsman for this, and when you die, you're all going to burn in the fires of hell!"

Hardin paused in the open doorway, turning back to look at the woman. From the sudden fear in her eyes, he could tell that she knew she had pushed him too far this time. For four years now, he'd detested the woman and all her snide comments and condemnations; but for the sake of peace with the duke, who supported them, he had held his tongue. Now that the pact was irrevocably broken, he had no reason to hold back... but of all the things that he could have said, only one thing came readily to mind - a single honest statement that he knew would infuriate her more than anything else.

"By the way," he remarked amiably, "you were right all along, about Sydney and I. We _are_ lovers. We _do_ lie together - we have done so within your own walls - and I no longer see any reason to pretend otherwise for the sake of your peace of mind."

Without waiting for a reaction, Hardin closed the door behind him. He'd just raised his hand to begin the ritual to lock it with a sigil when a scream of pure fury and loathing arose from inside. He winced - he'd never imagined the woman could be so loud - but continued with the incantation regardless.

"If you touch my son, you twisted bastard, may God himself strike you down where you stand! The end would be better for you than if _I_ were to lay hands upon you!"

Joshua was watching him gravely, glancing back toward his mother's screams of rage, and Hardin took his hand again. "The spell I just cast prevents anyone but myself and Sydney from entering," he told the boy, leading him down the hallway, back towards the sanctuary. "Your mother will be safe - no one can harm her." And as for her curses, even if the god who she was invoking did exist, Hardin had no intention of harming him.

The boy nodded, then his head shot up in alarm at a shout from just outside the chapel. The sound of footsteps, metal on stone, was perfectly clear through the thin glass of the arched windows, and Hardin knew that the screams of the duchess had attracted the attention of the knights - none of the brethren wore metal armor aside from Sydney and himself. A cry of pain rang out, and Hardin recognized the voice as Davian, who had been stationed at the back exits of the chapel.

Hardin spared a moment to curse the woman under his breath, and tugged at Joshua's hand, forcing the wide-eyed boy to run. The Blades now knew where they were, and it was unlikely that Müllenkamp could hold their position much longer. Sydney had better have contacted the rest of their men with the mindspeak in the time Hardin had been gone, telling them to pull out, for the decision had been reached none too soon already.

The footsteps of the knights now carried a hollow echo far behind them, and Hardin knew that they had forced their way inside. Some had halted, no doubt trying to get to the duchess, who was still screaming - and they'd waste plenty of time on that, Hardin thought with a grim smile, for none but Sydney had ever been able to break as strong a sigil as he could manage - but some continued onward, their clattering growing louder as they grew closer. At this rate, they would catch up before he and the boy reached the sanctuary, for Joshua was already moving as quickly as his short legs would let him.

Hardin had no doubt he could take out a few of the knights on his own, especially in such close quarters as these narrow hallways, but there was the boy to think about. He could not risk having him injured; even if his oath meant nothing to the duchess, he did not intend to break it. He did not especially relish the idea of killing men before a child's eyes, either. Finally Hardin reached down and scooped the boy up, tucking him under one arm before he took off running. He'd expected Joshua to squirm or protest, but the boy remained calm and limp in his grip, for which Hardin was grateful.

The slight weight was not much of a hindrance, and Hardin covered the rest of the distance between the priests' quarters and the sanctuary quite quickly. Throwing open the door, he opened his mouth to warn Sydney that the Blades were coming, but froze momentarily at the sight laid out before him.

Sydney was sprawled across the floor on his back, a crimson stain spreading at his side, trickling from his chest, from which a crossbow bolt protruded. A strange man was bent over him, dressed not as a knight in rigid armor, but looser leathers, designed for mobility rather than protection. The man was feeling at Sydney's throat, but his head snapped up at the sound of the door opening.

"Sydney!" The cry burst unbidden from Hardin's lips before he could stop it. He knew full well that Sydney was immortal, but there were limits to that immortality, and if the stranger had managed to put a bolt in Sydney's chest, - from the front, even, not an ambush from behind! - he was afraid of what else the stranger might be able to do. Forgetting the boy in his arms, Hardin rushed forward, preparing to engage this unexpected enemy. The man's surprise did not overtake him for long, and he wasted no time in rising to his feet, his hand on his sword before Hardin had a chance to reach down for his own. The stranger moved with remarkable swiftness, and Hardin realized that he was outclassed by far before he had even come within striking distance.

He'd certainly have been slaughtered helplessly, if the hilt of a sword hadn't come down against the stranger's back abruptly, taking him by surprise. Behind him, Sydney had risen to his feet, and he glared down at the shocked man fiercely. "I... I'm the one you want," Sydney's voice rasped weakly. The bolt still was lodged in his chest, and a trickle of blood ran from his mouth; though he lived, it was only by the power of the gods and the Dark, and he was still gravely wounded.

He met Hardin's eyes steadily, though, and took in the sight of the boy under Hardin's arm with vague approval. "Hardin... go quickly," he ordered. "Go... to Leá Monde."

Sydney's orders were to be followed without question, especially in such a tense situation, but it was a reluctant nod that Hardin gave as he turned to flee. The sound of metal striking tile, then metal against metal, rang out after him as he made his escape through the side exit with his charge. Merciful gods, protect your chosen... ...And mine.

The faint footsteps of the Blades were drawing near by this time, and Hardin spared a moment to scrye further down the hallway, only to find that they were quite close indeed. His options were few: turn around and go back through the sanctuary, perhaps having to face the stranger Sydney was now facing off against - and he certainly did not want to end up in the midst of that - fight his way through the knights and hope that the boy was not hurt, or find a place to hide and hope that they were not discovered. None of these options particularly appealed to him, but the last was likely the safest, and so he ducked into the first door he came to, which turned out to be a small closet.

There was no time to set a sigil before the knights arrived, and so he simply knelt behind a stack of crates piled against a wall, one hand over the boy's mouth to prevent him from making any sound, and the other drawing his sword. Clattering footsteps grew louder, and Hardin tensed as he heard them pass, but pass they did. Soon they had vanished entirely, and after quickly scrying the hallway to make certain that all was clear, he glanced down to find Joshua watching him with questioning eyes. "I mean to keep you unharmed," he muttered, "and I can't say whether the Blades would be particularly interested in your safety. I'm..." Suddenly he realized that he was explaining himself to a four year old boy, and he stopped short. After sheathing his sword once more, he slipped his arms around his charge's waist, lifting him to his side. "All you need to do is stay quiet, and hold on to me; I'll let no harm come to you."

Short arms slipped around his neck, just as he'd expected, and that freed up one hand to remain on his sword hilt as he prowled down the hallways, scrying ahead from time to time to make certain that their path was clear. It seemed safe for some distance, and he got some grim amusement from seeing half a dozen knights still trying to dispel the sigil he'd laid upon the door leading to the duchess, but his momentary relief was shattered with a great sound of breaking glass somewhere behind him, and then a great roar.

He knew that roar. What on earth was Sydney doing back there, that he would be forced into summoning D'tok? Every eye in the Greylands would be on them already, and the arrival of a wyvern would only make matters worse.

Shouts were going up elsewhere in the chapel, as the knights rushed in to see what was happening at the center. Hardin ducked into another doorway, sword in hand, just in time to avoid the eyes of another pair of knights. He found that his heart was beating against his ribcage much too quickly; Sydney had to be in trouble, or he would not have called D'tok - Hardin was certain of it. No matter how many knights he might have to cut down, his first instinct was to go to Sydney's aid, and the only thing that kept him from doing so was little Joshua's arms, tight around his neck as the boy clung to him fiercely. He'd been instructed to keep the young noble safe at all costs - no matter what happened, Sydney had said, even should the gods themselves descend - and like a good soldier, that was what Hardin would do. Often he wished he were not such a good soldier.

At least one good thing had come out of the wyvern's arrival, he discovered as he scryed the hallway; the commotion had made for a powerful diversion, and they now had a clear shot all the way to the back entrance of the chapel. Thanking the gods for at least this small blessing amongst all the problems that had beset them throughout the night, Hardin clutched the boy and the sword tightly, and made a dash for it.

He paused just inside the door, looking over the torchlit area outside before exiting into the open, but no one at all was present, save the bodies that littered the ground. Some were knights, but many were clad not in armor, but in mismatched jerkins and leather vests. Sometimes, too, solitary weapons lay on the ground, the bodies that had once carried them having turned to dust and light. His own men, his brethren...

Even should the gods themselves descend. Hardin took a deep breath, murmured a quick blessing for the fallen, and did his best to avoid looking too closely, close enough to recognize faces or weapons, as he picked his way around them through the pathways that would lead out of the manor. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and the smell of burned flesh as well, where wisps of smoke escaped the blackened armor of some of the knights, for the spellcasters had been told to use any means necessary to hold the chapel. This was not a sight for a child's eyes, and Hardin turned his head to regard Joshua, who was looking out over the scene with a vague expression of dismay. "It might be best if you close your eyes," Hardin suggested, and the boy nodded, squeezing them shut as his grip tightened even more on Hardin's neck.

Thanks to his Dark-given talent, Hardin saw the knights spreading out from the chapel again long before they came into visual range, and was able to avoid them as they trotted down the path he'd intended to take to the gate through which they'd entered the duke's manor. Someone had closed it, he saw with annoyance, and so he would have to find another way out - and fast. Whatever had happened in the chapel's sanctuary, it was over, and the knights appeared to be searching for something. "E'en he cannot vanish into thin air," Hardin overheard one knight saying to his partner. "...Can he? I hear tell he can make himself invisible, but I ne'er believed half the tales they do tell about him..."

So Sydney was missing, Hardin thought with relief. He'd almost certainly escaped, if that were the case. Now, if he could just find a way to do the same - he had not Sydney's teleportation spells, and thus would need something a bit more normal. At least the knights were not searching for Joshua and his abductor; they'd likely not even managed to get to the duchess yet, to find that the young lord was missing.

Ducking back behind the stables near the wall surrounding the manor, Hardin took a moment to think the matter over. There were two more lesser gates, elsewhere in the manor's wall, but those almost certainly had been secured by the Blades immediately upon their arrival; a quick look with the Sight confirmed that suspicion. Still, they were a better option than the main gate. He just had to find a way to clear the knights away... If he had been alone, he would simply have fought his way through them - with Sydney having escaped, what happened to him mattered little - but there was the boy to think about. He'd promised Sydney that Joshua would safely escape the duke's household, and Hardin always kept his promises.

A summoned creature, perhaps, would provide the knights with a distraction, lasting long enough to keep their attention during his escape, if not actually destroying them; that would be a fortunate thing to have happen, but the minions Hardin could summon were not as strong as Sydney's. It might be a bit frightening for the boy, of course...

Hardin had little choice, however, and so he knelt upon the ground, setting the young noble down as he reached into his pocket, drawing forth a small bag of sand with which to define the magic circle. "Stay at my side - tonight your father's manor is no place for a lad your age to be wandering alone," he told the boy firmly. Joshua didn't look as though he intended to disobey, but simply watched Hardin with curiosity as he sifted the sand through his fingers, leaving a trail as he walked the perimeter of a circle as wide across as he was tall.

So intent was he on making the more intricate runes and patterns at the edges of the circle as quickly as he could, he did not think to keep his Sight on the surrounding area until he heard footsteps only a short distance away, where the dirt of the stables turned to cobblestones again. Whirling in alarm, and silently cursing his inattention, he reached out to scoop up Joshua, but was halted by the sight of two knights leveling crossbows at him from the corner of the stable, less than ten paces away.

Thinking quickly, Hardin did the only thing he could think of to do, though it made him cringe; with one swift move, he knelt and drew a dagger from his boot with his right hand, while his left arm went around the boy, pulling him between himself and the two knights. The sight of the edge of his dagger resting just below the boy's chin filled him with disgust, but his voice remained hard and steady. "I assume you two know who this is."

The two Blades looked quite uneasy, and one opened his mouth, but Hardin cut him off. "Don't give the alarm. If you do..."

Fortunately, they got the point - Hardin did not want to finish the sentence in front of Joshua. Not that it would likely make any difference, he realized as he glanced down at the boy, the knights having lowered their crossbows in mute surrender. Joshua knew exactly what was going on, it seemed, for his small heartbeat fluttered wildly beneath Hardin's encircling arm, and his eyes were wide as they looked down at the dagger. His expression, however, seemed to be more one of dismay and surprise than fear, and Hardin's arm tightened around him in what he hoped was a more comforting than frightening way.

"I've no desire to harm you or the boy," he informed them, standing slowly, carefully keeping the blade to Joshua's throat and his back against the wall of the manor as he lifted the boy into his arms, keeping him against his chest. As much as he loathed what he was doing, he had been forced into it, and might as well take full advantage of it. "...I require a horse." A slight jerk of the dagger indicated the closest in the stable. "That grey will do. One of you, drop your weapons, and ready the horse. Bring it to me when you are done."

The two knights glanced at each other questioningly, and Hardin forced his expression to grow more fierce. "I said, one of you drop your weapons and bring the horse to me," he repeated sternly. One of the knights nodded to the other, and bent to place his crossbow and the sword he carried onto the ground in front of him. "Very good," Hardin told him as he turned and went to saddle the horse he'd indicated. "You," he indicated the other with a nod. "Drop yours as well, and go to open the east gate. Tell your fellows guarding it that we are to have safe passage - or else." The knight nodded grudgingly, placed his weapons by his partner's, and rushed off to do so.

Watching him with the Sight to see that he did as he was told, Hardin kept the dagger to Joshua's throat even as he knelt beside the small pile of weapons, for the benefit of the knight still in the stable, who glanced back at them every few seconds. The weapons were well made - the knights apparently had acquired a talented smith - and Hardin almost regretted having no way of taking them with him. Instead, he tossed them over the manor's wall, ensuring that the knight now returning with the horse would not try anything foolish. "Stop there," he ordered the knight, who was only halfway across the yard of the stable. Eyeing him nervously, the knight did as he was told. "Drop the reins, and back up against the stable wall - yes, like that." With the knight out of range to do anything harmful, Hardin took the reins of the horse in the hand holding the dagger, then lifted Joshua onto the horse's back. Climbing up into the saddle behind the boy, Hardin's arm went around him again, holding the dagger once more to his neck despite his guilt. "Come - you will accompany the boy and I to the gate. If any of your kind approach, you will warn them to stay back."

The knight followed his instructions to the letter, walking anxiously before the horse. A smart man, Hardin thought grimly; he would not have harmed Joshua if his life depended on it, of course, but the knight did not know that. Unfortunately, neither did Joshua, who was trembling in his arms, but Hardin could not reassure the boy while within earshot of the knight.

No one else approached as they made their way to the east gate, and Hardin saw upon arrival that the handful of knights stationed there had removed their weapons just as their companion had, placing them in a heap a short distance away from where they all stood. The portcullis had been raised, just as he'd asked, and Hardin nodded in approval as he walked the grey forward through the gate, his eyes never leaving the knights. Once on the other side, he gave them another order. "Close it." They obeyed, and Hardin reached out with his left hand to lay his fingers upon the bars of the portcullis, murmuring the words that would seal it with a sigil. The only key to that sigil lay back in Leá Monde; they would not be opening that gate for a long, long time.

That having been done, he looked back at the baleful glares of the knights still inside. "You're intelligent, for men of the church. I trust you are intelligent enough to know better than to try to follow me."

"We do not need to follow you," one of the knights said with scorn, even as he nodded his agreement just like the others. "God himself will deliver the lad from your evil, and your punishment will come upon you like an autumn storm, cultist."

"Perhaps." Hardin ignored the man and clicked his heels against the grey's sides, urging the horse to a gallop as they turned to go.

His Sight allowed him to find the knights prowling the area before they found him, and he skillfully turned the grey aside into the forest to avoid notice as he escaped through the night, ducking the low-hanging limbs of the trees. Once he could be certain that he'd put enough distance between himself and the manor, his shame overwhelmed him and he reined the horse in, halting in their escape. Slipping the dagger back into his boot, he turned Joshua gently to look at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered earnestly to the wide-eyed boy. "I would not have hurt you no matter what, I swear - I had no choice... I made a promise that I would take you out of there safely, and there was no other way. I swear it..."

The boy nodded gravely. There was something strange about the child - the eyes that were far too serious for someone his age were the most obvious - but the feel of Joshua, the little-boy smell of him, reminded Hardin so much of his younger brother that having to put a dagger to his throat had nearly made him want to turn the dagger on himself. To threaten a child's life... could there be more despicable an act? "You understand, then? I will not harm you?"

Joshua's blond head nodded again, and Hardin was able to relax a bit; his own heart had been beating as quickly as the boy's. "Good... We have a bit of a ride before we reach our destination, so you may want to sleep, if you can - I will not let you fall, I promise. Do you need anything? Food, water...?" Joshua nodded once more. "What then?"

Joshua regarded him in silence, and Hardin was slightly puzzled. "Tell me, boy... what do you need?" The boy opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again and ducked his head, as if embarrassed. "What is it?" Hardin asked again, and only received another shake of the blond head in response. "Just speak to..." Something occurred to Hardin then, and he frowned worriedly. " _Can_ you speak?"

Looking up at the tall man, Joshua cautiously shook his head, his lower lip trembling a little. Hardin only barely refrained from a bitter curse as he gathered the boy into a hug. Joshua's short arms wound themselves around his neck again, and he held the boy tightly against his chest. He really _would_ burn in hell for this, for frightening the lad so terribly...

To his amazement, he suddenly felt the touch of soft lips pressed to his cheek before Joshua leaned his head upon his shoulder once more. He froze, the innocent kiss of a child bringing back memories that had been nearly erased over many years, and he breathed a light sigh of wonder. Already his guilt was beginning to slip away, melting just as his heart had at such a sweet, trusting gesture. The gods only knew why Joshua had accepted him - for that matter, why he was not terrified of him - but after all that he'd seen and done during the night, this small act of forgiveness eased his mind a great deal.

After a moment's rest for them both, Hardin loosened his grip, looking down to meet the boy's dark eyes. "Did you need something to eat, then?" Joshua shook his head. "A drink?" With a slight, self-conscious smile, Joshua nodded. "All right then..."

As Joshua tilted his head back, drinking from the waterskin Hardin had kept at his belt, Hardin couldn't help but smile a bittersweet smile. After years of caring for his brother, he'd thought that he would like to have a child of his own, but that dream had died long ago, when he'd found himself so taken with Sydney. Even if he had been willing to lie with a woman simply for that reason, as Sydney had suggested, he knew that an organization such as Müllenkamp would not be a suitable environment in which to raise a child; they were hunted, they were often lacking food, and then there was the violence involved in the actions they took. And that didn't even take into account the time they spent in Leá Monde, which was certainly no place for a child.

But here he was, taking a little boy into Leá Monde - and Sydney intended to keep him, though to all others he would have simply appeared to be a hostage. Perhaps Joshua would overcome his fear in time, and speak again... perhaps even accept him as a guardian, if not as a father. Sydney, as well, could care for him, and they might even become something like a family... The thought struck Hardin as more than a little absurd, but it pleased him regardless.

Wide eyes looked up at Hardin, and he took the skin from the boy's hands, replacing it on his belt. "Is there anything else?" Joshua shook his head. "Then we'll be on our way. Lean back against me and relax - the journey will take until mid-morning even if we keep a good pace, so you have plenty of time to rest."

Joshua nodded, and Hardin settled the boy carefully in front of him, where he could keep a hold on him as they rode. He was about to flick the reins again and urge the horse onward, when a quiet voice spoke from the shadows.

"One moment, Hardin."

Hardin had his hand on his sword before he recognized the voice, but eased it off immediately. "Gods," he muttered, as the dark figure resolved itself among the underbrush nearby, stepping forward to approach. "You startled me - to say nothing of the boy. I thought you were long gone..."

"I waited." Sydney's smile was barely visible in the half-light of a forest at dawn, even standing right beside the grey. "Your new mount seems strong enough..."

"Aye, he is." Hardin offered an arm as Sydney swung up behind him; even if the grey had not been a particularly strong horse, Sydney had become little more than skin and bones in the last months, and would not present much of a burden. As always when the matter came to mind, Hardin found himself growing worried, but he did his best to ignore it. "You've fully recovered from the wound that... that strange man gave you, then."

"Yes, I'm fine," Sydney assured Hardin as his arms slipped around his friend's waist for balance. Hardin winced a little, knowing that the claws were in close proximity to Joshua, but the boy didn't stir. "Hello, Joshua," the mage greeted him softly. "I see our young friend is unharmed?"

"Frightened, but yes - otherwise unharmed. He... cannot speak, though."

"Ah." Sydney's hands rested lightly upon the leather of Hardin's jacket as the mage leaned forward to settle against his back. "...That will pass, I'm sure. Let us be on our way."

Obediently, Hardin nudged the grey's sides, urging him into a canter. They rode in silence for a time, then Hardin spoke. "Sydney... I don't suppose you managed to find the key?"

Sydney stirred against his back, almost fretfully, and Hardin wondered if he'd been asleep. "Key...?"

"Yes, the... the key." Even though Joshua was only a child, Hardin thought it best not to speak in detail about the secrets Sydney had shared with him - perhaps this was another of Sydney's tests. "The key that will unlock the power of Leá Monde, the object you were searching for."

"Mm, of course." Hardin felt the slight weight of Sydney's head as it rested once more between his shoulderblades. "No, there was no more time to look. The key must lie elsewhere, perhaps with the duke himself."

"With the ability to summon such power, I suppose it would make sense." Hardin sighed softly, his hands tightening on the reins. "All this, then, for naught."

"We do have the boy," Sydney pointed out.

"True, but it was not for him that so many of our men died. Still our city remains in danger..."

One of Sydney's hands rose from its place on his chest to touch his chin, careful and gentle. "All is not lost. To mount another assault now would be foolish, but once things have calmed down a bit, we will have regrouped with our survivors. We will have another chance."

"If the Blades do not interfere with that as well," Hardin muttered. He still had no idea how Guildenstern had arrived so quickly, unless someone had leaked their plans to the knights, and that troubled him. The plan had been known to only those involved, those who they knew to be trustworthy.

"Calm yourself, dear Hardin," Sydney murmured against his back. "What must be, must be. Worry not about the details, and for now... relax. Tomorrow will bring plenty of trouble."

Hardin let out a deep breath, trying to do as Sydney suggested. "I imagine this means we won't be able to enjoy a nice, soft bed back in Leá Monde when we arrive," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"No," Sydney acknowledged, "but... I wonder if it would work on horseback...? Have you ever tried it, John?"

In spite of himself, Hardin smiled a little. "Sleeping on horseback? You may try, if you like, but I think that I should stay awake to guide the horse, lest he return to his familiar stable."

Hardin could almost feel Sydney's face twisting into a smirk. "I was not speaking of sleep."

He'd suspected as much, of course. "Gods, Sydney - and this sort of talk in front of a little boy... The church was right to name you obscene."

"He is already sleeping," Sydney said softly, and Hardin glanced down to see that he was right - Joshua was resting limply against him, eyes closed peacefully. "You see, Hardin, I already knew that falling asleep on horseback was something that could be done," the mage continued. "But on the other hand..."

Hardin chuckled, being careful not to wake the boy. "I believe I'd prefer to keep that in the bed, thank you. Even if you do have a fondness for unlikely places and positions, I am not so receptive. Besides, I'm not sure the horse would appreciate it."

Sydney laughed lightly, his arms tightening around Hardin's chest. "Indeed." It was odd, Hardin thought, that Sydney should have gone from being so tense, only a short time ago at the manor, to his usual teasing so readily, in no time whatsoever; they hadn't found the key, after all, and there had been a great deal of loss. So many of their men had died, and the gods only knew what had happened with D'tok, who had been a well-kept secret of Müllenkamp's for quite some time.

As he sometimes did, Sydney answered the question that remained unspoken. "My plans have changed a bit, John," he murmured, suddenly more serious. "I believe that everything now lies in the hands of the gods, and what more could we ask? They are able to plan far beyond what you and I could ever imagine. ...All is as it should be."

Hardin didn't find that reassuring in the slightest; after having known Sydney for so long, he knew perfectly well that when Sydney said "as it should be", he never meant "as I would have it". But his faith in Sydney was deep, if not unshakable, and by way of response, he took one of the mage's metal hands in his own, lifting it to his lips to kiss it comfortingly. Even if the details muddied it a great deal, for the moment, the unusual life he'd found himself living was almost the life he'd once dreamed of - a sleeping child in his lap and his lover's arms around him.


End file.
